Belle's Ghost
by kataract52
Summary: AU. Bella Donna watches her daughter from beyond the grave and tries to find a way back to her.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**A/N: **This is a mini-fic based on my major fic, Honor Saga. In this AU, Belle is killed over a Guild feud, leaving her daughter in Gambit's care. Due to the sudden violence of her death and her desire to live, Belle's spirit cannot pass over. Only Honor is aware of her mother's ghost, and decides to hook up with Sinister to acquire a body for her mother. This is the story from Belle's POV.

**Belle's Ghost**

There was violence; a great, unbearable pain, and then nothing.

I'd been close to death before, so I knew what the door looked like. When I was a young woman, there was an enemy I couldn't defeat alone. I asked my ex for help, and he didn't disappoint. He saved our clans, our Guilds, but he couldn't save me. I did not _want_ to die, but I was so sure I would. I slipped into a coma, but ultimately survived. Besides that, there were many times when I _thought_ I was much closer to death than I really was. I've made many promises to God if only He would spare my life this one time…

_I'll be a better daughter._

_I'll be a better woman._

_I'll be a better mother._

But death was sudden and unexpected.

I saw my body: neck broken, eyes open, limbs twitching. I desperately tried to reclaim it, but that body was gone.

I had to move on.

I faded into nothingness: a place lost souls often go. I call it Limbo, although my daughter would've called it the time-between-time. There was nothing to see or describe, I only remember hearing my father's voice beckon me.

"Bella Donna… Are you ready to come home?"

_No_, my soul answered. _Honor still needs me._

I thought I would return to life, but my body was long buried. I saw my own tombstone: next to my brother and father and grandparents. Funny, I always thought myself beyond the fear of death. When I was seventeen, Remy and I visited a graveyard at night. He saw a tombstone with his name: a boy with his age and name had been killed in the Civil War, and it drove him away like garlic to a vampire. I laughed at him until I pissed myself. But now I understood _exactly_ how he felt.

The next thing I saw was my daughter lighting a candle in a cathedral. Johnny kneeled beside her, and they prayed in silence. I didn't recognize the building. Why weren't they in New Orleans?

My sweet little girl… So socially awkward I sometimes hoped she had _nothing_ of her father's personality. But she was so _beautiful_. She had her father's black and red eyes, my brother's strong jaw line, and my freckled nose. She was at the end of childhood, and her limbs were too long and thin. It was an odd charm, but it was hers. Beneath her skin, her heart cried out so painfully that I could _feel_ it. Our hearts were always in sync. When I carried her, I could feel her little heart in my womb like a hummingbird. After she was born, her little heart fluttered against my breast while she slept. As a child, her heart beat matched my own pattern. Before I passed, her heart was Assassin-strong beneath her training bra. But her heart was always tender: so soft and sweet you would weep to feel it.

It made me weep, anyway, and I'd endured worse.

Suddenly, she lifted her eyes and looked around.

'I'm here, chere!' I shouted.

She looked right through me. She kept looking around.

I faded away again, thinking I would return to Heaven this time. But no one ever appeared to me or asked me again.

The next time I saw Honor, she was sleeping in a hotel room with Johnny. He was sleeping, too, in a narrow bed across the room. She looked so grown-up now with her long, strawberry-blond locks and unsmiling face. She needed her _own_ room.

On second thought… In a place like _this_, best to have her close to Johnny.

I shouldn't have disturbed her, but I missed her so much. I wanted her to know I hadn't left her: she was safe. So I sat by her bed all night, speaking to her. I focused all my energy on making my voice and touch real, and finally I made progress. The hair on her arms folded under my touch. Encouraged, I stroked her hair. I couldn't _feel_ her, but the hair moved.

Maybe she could feel me!

I stroked her pretty face, her pretty hair. When she slept, she looked like a baby doll: I'd never told her that. I'd watch her sleep as an infant – sure if I fell asleep, she'd float away or die – and I just knew my little girl was the prettiest child in the world. Why had I ever stopped watching her sleep? She was still the prettiest girl on earth. When had she grown up? Had I missed it during my life, or had she grown up since my death?

She shook her head and swatted me away.

I smiled and kept touching her. _Wake up, chere. Feel me._ Desperate, I pushed the hair from her ear (it moved!) and whispered: 'I'll never leave you.'

She gasped and shot up in bed. Panicked now, her eyes darted around in the dark. Of course, she couldn't see me, and I felt guilty for frightening her.

"Momma?" She whispered, crying. "Momma is dat you?"

She looked me dead in the eye.

I should've held her, kissed her, told her how much I would always love her… But I was as startled as if _she_ were the ghost. We just looked at each other for a long time: neither moved nor exhaled. The edges of her started to fade away. I wasn't really sure if I could still see her or not. Finally, she faded away into shadow. Sometimes I thought I imagined the whole thing.

This time when I faded into Limbo, I was greeted by a man.

'_That's enough, Belle. You done good. Time t' let her go.'_

Julien!

Tears poured down my face when my eyes received my late brother. He'd been killed by my foolish words, but he was just as handsome as ever. He was young and strong, and that bitter restlessness always present in him was gone. Now he was at peace. I hadn't known him to have peace since our father passed away, and I yearned to become re-acquainted with him.

I wanted to run to him, but Honor beckoned me.

"Momma? Please don't leave me…"

She was sitting in the back of Johnny's pick-up truck. It was night-time and she was alone. I certainly wouldn't leave her under _these_ conditions!

Suddenly, our lovely world was shattered.

_LeBeau_.

My heart broke. Despite all I'd done to protect her, she'd _still_ gone to him! He would lie to her: tell her I was a bad mother for keeping him away. She would grow up to hate me. And when she'd had enough of his lies to figure him out, she'd be as bitter and jaded as he'd made me.

'_Come on, Belle_,' Julien beckoned. _'She be all right now.'_

I looked across the river between life and death. I was in a small boat, which was still tethered to the land of the living. On the opposite shore stood my brother, father, and grandparents. Strange that the Church tells people St. Peter will greet them to eternity. It is your clan who welcomes you…

I thought I'd gone home.

I didn't think I'd see Honor again until I welcomed her at the river bank.

Then I heard her screaming for me.

'_Momma! Momma! Mooomm-mmmaaa!'_

I was _alive_ again! Trapped inside science's womb, I had a body nonetheless. Tubes penetrated my limbs, and a single, large tube provided air to my mouth and nasal passaged. Rather stupidly, I tore these things away _before_ I tried to escape my incubator. The plastic broke away easily enough for a hysterical mother, and I stumbled through a darkened laboratory towards the source of the screams. This was the not the body that had given birth to my daughter… It was the body _she_ gave life to.


	2. Honor's Birth

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **I had no intentions AT ALL with posting another chapter onto this story. (But someone asked so nicely for a continuation that I decided to cook something up. ) "Belle's Ghost" was basically on off-shoot of "Honor Saga" – I just didn't have room for it and posted it separately. I don't want to write the same thing from different POVs, so I'm trying to add some new material. Also, I really love Bella Donna. There aren't enough stories with her! Please let me know if I should continue.

**Belle's Ghost**

_Twelve years ago_

The house flurried with excitement.

Tomorrow was the fortieth anniversary of the Assassins' patriarch and matriarch, Marius and Vivien Boudreaux. This year was filled with many heartaches and joys, but since it became apparent that Vivien would not live to see her forty-_first_ anniversary, today was extra special.

Bella Donna Boudreaux was their heir, and as much their child as their parent. She tended to her ailing grandmother and ran Marius's business now that his mind was slipping. And she was the hostess of this grand affair, even though she was heavy with child. Although not due until the end of October, Belle suffered like a horse in labor.

Perhaps it was the unforgiveable Southern summer, some speculated.

Others whispered that she'd lied about the conception date. What should that matter? The child was conceived out of wedlock, and how _far_ out shouldn't matter. But the child would be born _in_ wedlock. That was all Belle cared about, and if Remy hadn't ran off, that's all _he_ would've cared about, too.

"Gris-Gris, make sure dat cake stay on ice. And if de tea start t' boil, put de bags in, hear?" Belle called over her shoulder as she bolted for the toilet.

It was humiliating, really. Every five minutes, every time she drank, and every time she stood up, Belle had to pee. It was the first of many slights she would suffer to bring this child into the world, and every one of them stung like a flesh wound.

She squeezed into the bathroom and blindly leaned back, hoping she'd hit the toilet. Lifting her skirts, she heaved down like a heavy cow and felt relief as urine drained and made a little more room in her body. Some days she thought she could rip in two. LeBeau's spawn required all of her womb, pressing her organs back and her hips apart for more room. Her elders praised the child's size, saying a large baby was a healthy one. Although Belle would never admit fear, she was terrified of labor. How could she possibly pass this? It would kill her, certainly. And the baby wasn't even fully developed yet! She had at least another month to suffer while her child grew in height and weight.

Because of her size, people already wondered if she wasn't past due.

Idiots.

She was there. _She_ would know, wouldn't she?

What they were really saying, of course, was perhaps this child wasn't LeBeau's.

Idiots.

Who _else_ would the father be? The archangel, Gabriel?

Belle felt an uneasy pressure on her lower back, and figuring she would be detained longer than originally planned, she opened the newspaper.

Six months ago, Belle and Remy took vows before God and their families. But that was the last time she saw him. He was nervous to stand at the altar, but he'd had no reservations about the actual _marriage_. And when she told him eight weeks before their wedding that she was afraid she'd get pregnant, he seemed eager to be a father. She sat in the passenger's seat of his brother's car as Remy drove her home. The windows were still partially fogged, and her panties still warm from the condom breaking. She bit her lip when she said: "What if I get pregnant?"

His eyes lit up. "Belle, we gonna be married in March. Ain't no one gonna care! De sooner I get a child on you, de sooner dis pact be sealed!"

It meant so much to them, to be married and have a family. They'd planned to make a baby as soon as they were wed, and Belle was _sure_ he'd hang up his Casanova ways then. Their families would have a peace pact. Belle would have the man of her heart, and a baby of her own. It was so perfect.

Too perfect to last, apparently…

Now she was utterly alone with his child. He hadn't even said good-bye to her, and hadn't written or called since.

They'd been best friends since the third grade and lovers since the seventh. How could he leave her so completely?

Today she checked the obituaries for word of him, as she had every morning for six months. There it was: the briefest of articles and no picture given.

_Homeless boy Remy LeBeau, aged 18 years, found dead in Baton Rouge. Buried September 17, 1990._

Belle re-read the article and then read it again. Did his family know yet? How could they? Surely they would not have allowed him a pauper's funeral! He was the son of the Thieves Guildmaster, for Christ's sake! Surely they would tell his wife she was now his widow! Even Jean-Luc would not be so cruel! She had suggested the banishment in lieu of death, but… Oh God, it was all her fault! She'd thrown him on the streets, thinking he'd defend himself as well as ever. He was too _good_ to get caught. Had he done it himself? Oh God, no; he'd never get to Heaven by committing suicide and being buried alone on unblessed soil!

The paper crumbled and tore in her hands.

She dropped the newspaper and tried to stand. When her legs tensed, she heard a splash and hesitated. She hadn't _felt_ the urge or passing of urine. Looking into the toilet, she saw nothing abnormal and left the bathroom.

The pain increased from a throbbing ache in her pelvis and back to an acute grip from her stomach to her knees. But she was too frightened to tell anyone. Her mind refused to accept that she should be in labor, just as it repelled from the idea that Remy was dead.

But she had always known, hadn't she? Wasn't that why she checked the grave listings every day?

Tante Mattie arrived that evening at Gris-Gris' request, and agreed that Belle appeared to be in great pain. The healer checked the young girl's body and to her horror realized the child had dropped, the water had broken, and the birth canal was completely dilated.

They hardly had time to roll up their sleeves and catch the baby.

Belle didn't scream or cry during the delivery. Tante Mattie had expected nothing less from the Assassin princess. But she was shocked by the quickness of the birth, the serenity of the unprepared clan, and the strength of the newborn baby.

"A girl!" Tante Mattie exclaimed, and handed the new little person to her mother. She tied off two sections of the blue, pulsing umbilical cord and then cut. This was the fourth generation of Boudreauxs that Tante Mattie had delivered, and she'd cut all of their umbilical cords. The only father present for his child's birth had been Bella Donna's father, Marius. The idea of father's witnessing their children's births and cutting the umbilical cord was a very modern one, and nothing progressed too quickly in the South.

Belle cradled her child and the room seemed to sigh as one.

Vivien brought a small blanket to clean the baby, and while dry-bathing her, counted softly to ten twice.

"Grammy, what you doin'?" Belle asked.

"Makin' sure she got all 'er fingers and toes," the frail old woman replied as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Belle slowly looked down at the little girl with red curls, fat cheeks, and pink skin. She had Remy's eyes, his ears, his fingers, his lips… Would Belle ever look at the girl and not remember him? Hot tears filled her violet eyes and poured down her pretty face. Everyone thought she wept with joy.

"You done good, _fille_" Marius told Belle, beaming at the little baby.

Belle cried harder.

The Old Man held the little girl, now cleaned and wrapped. He did not see Remy in the child, but he did not see much these days. His vision was probably as bad as the newborn's, and they more or less _felt_ each other.

"De newest Boudreaux…" Vivien said softly. Then, to Tante Mattie, she said: "Dat's four generations you deliver."

Tante Mattie dabbed the corners of her brown eyes. Babies and weddings always made her cry.

"_Non_," Belle spoke up. "Not Boudreaux. She's a LeBeau. Dat's what we name her."

That night, Belle and her baby slept hard. The doors and windows were locked tight, but Jean-Luc managed to get inside. He knew Candra had been here before him and made some sort of vague threat against the girl. She did not like that the baby had her father's eyes, or so Jean-Luc had _heard_.

Light from a full moon poured over the mother and child.

He did not risk holding the baby. He did not want to wake her and disturb Belle, but mostly, he did not want to fall in love with her like he had Remy. Jean-Luc knew the first time he held his son that he could never forget him. Their story was a long and winding road, and he wondered how long the tale with his granddaughter would be.

Belle and her baby were going underground indefinitely. Marius could not risk Candra's wrath.

Jean-Luc brushed Belle's hair and kissed her temple before he left. In her twilight state, she would remember it as her father's ghost.

The phone rang three times before it woke up Henri. By the fifth ring, Mercy kicked him irritably to quell the noise. By the seventh, he rolled over and answered half-asleep.

"Henri?" It was Remy. "_Pére_ said he called on Belle, but she wasn't dere. And Lapin won't talk 'bout her. _Ce qui s'est passé_?"

So he was desperate. Remy had never come to Henri for information because he knew the elder brother was loyal to their father. Apparently, Remy's spies were also loyal to Jean-Luc (he was Guildmaster, after all) and they were all feeding him Jean-Luc's lies by omission. Seven months without shadow or whisper from Remy, and now he practically charged through the phone, demanding information on Belle.

Henri sighed and rubbed his bald head. When in doubt, best to tell the truth.

"Remy, look… Bella Donna… She gone, _homme_, and I don't t'ink she comin' back."

"She… She dead?" His voice was tight.

"_Mon Dieu_, Remy, don't do anyt'ing stupid." Henri's heart seized up painfully. He almost couldn't bear to tell this lie.

He wanted to say: _Bella Donna just had your child. It's a beautiful baby girl, and if you ever loved Belle, you'll let her raise her child in peace. She'll never want for anything; Papa and I will see to that. But we need Belle __**here**__, and most of all, we need your child if this peace between the Guilds is going to last._

But Remy would sweep in and take Belle and their daughter far away…

Henri could've told a half-lie: _She's met someone else. Someone even worse than __**you**__ and the two of them have run off together. Let her move on, and you go live your life in the Southwest or Europe or wherever you are now…_

But Remy would have an itch to look her up in a year or two. He'd want to know she was happy, and maybe even make peace.

He had to end this now.

Henri swallowed and said: "Brother, I tell you what I know. De Boudreaux's cross Candra, and now Belle disappeared. Vanished. De Old Man put t'gether some story 'bout her havin' work, but I won't insult you wit' it. I don't know nothin' for sure, but… I don't t'ink she comin' back…"

**Author's Notes: **I partially wrote this to make amends for Marvel's blunders, at least in my own mind… You may or may not recall that at various points in the comics, Gambit said he thought Belle was dead. Of course, when he saw her for the first time in years, he was not surprised that she was alive. I figured if Jean-Luc could formulate them meeting and falling in love, he could certainly find a way to keep them apart, too. (It's not that much of a stretch, really.) Sorry if you hate the flashback chapter, I try to avoid them, but I think in this story it works.


End file.
